Restoration
by Fierceawakening
Summary: Spoilers for Regeneration and Darkest Hour. This fic is technically a sequel to Accord, though hopefully also stands alone. Megatron welcomes Starscream back into the Decepticon fold. With sticky, violent (consensual) sex of all sorts, a bit of discipline, and a nice long chat about exactly what was going through Megatron's processor when Starscream left. M for... everything.


The doors to Starscream's quarters slid open with a faint hiss. He rushed inside, his heels clicking against the metal of the floor, unable to contain his eagerness.

His optics swept over the room, taking in the purple light strips along the walls, too many and too bright for Megatron, but placed there at Starscream's long-ago insistence. He hesitated before the reflective surfaces placed at regular intervals along the walls, staring at his own reflection, a grin spreading over his faceplates. Then he stepped toward the luxurious berth, far too large for a flier of Starscream's size, at the center of the room.

He flicked his wings once, pleased. Immediately, he froze, snarling in pain.

Megatron smiled at Starscream's back. With Starscream standing like that, he had a lovely view of the Seeker's back and the delicate wings rising from it.

And of the wounds on one wing that had stopped Starscream short, a series of parallel cuts that Megatron himself had left there. His claws had bitten deep into the metal, scoring through paint and into the plating beneath. Energon welled up from the cuts in glowing streaks of blue, running down the surface of the wing. The wing itself was dented, crumpled where Megatron's broad hands had clenched over it.

Megatron stared at the cuts, his optics burning a bright, avid red. He'd forgotten just how beautiful Starscream was – and just how much he liked to see his own marks on the Seeker's frame.

He felt a twinge of sympathetic pain in his leg as he followed Starscream inside. Starscream had repaid him in kind, digging his own curved talons into the plating of Megatron's thigh. The cuts stung as Megatron moved, but he welcomed the sensation. To court Starscream was to risk pain, and Megatron had never shied from it. He'd risen to power in the death pits of Kaon, after all.

He growled approvingly, a rumbling purr rising from deep within his chassis.

Starscream shivered, hearing the sound, his frame trembling in response to it. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the big mech behind him. Then he stepped forward again, his movements measured and deliberate.

"Everything is exactly as I left it," he murmured, allowing himself a moment to look around.

"You expected something different?" Megatron answered, following him in.

Starscream turned, bowing low. "I – I thought –" He hesitated, flicking his wings as he considered. Megatron saw his optics narrow. Perhaps moving his wing had pained him. Perhaps he was hesitating, considering carefully how to answer.

_Or perhaps_, Megatron mused, _it's something else entirely. _They _had _kissed only a klik ago, after all.

Megatron's hand clenched, remembering Starscream leaning into his touch, pressing his bleeding wing into the very claw Megatron had scratched it with –

"But then," Starscream said, interrupting the big mech's reverie, "I don't suppose you came here to listen to me talk about the room." His faceplates twisted into a smirk too devious to be entirely ingratiating.

Starscream stepped toward the berth, his wings shifting as he walked, showing no hint of hesitation. The gesture looked almost natural, as if Starscream had forgotten his wounds. But there was no mistaking the Seeker's intent.

Starscream's time away from the Decepticons had taken its toll on his frame. Dirt smeared the once-pristine plating, and the once-glossy paint was discolored and pitted with scratches and marks. Still, Starscream knew how to show off what he had. The undamaged wing glittered in the dim light of the room, hinting at how it might gleam with a bit of buffing and a proper coat of polish.

And then there was the other wing, the scratches Megatron's claws had left in it proof of his authority and his power. Starscream knew that, too, and knew very well that Megatron would want to see it. He half-turned, giving Megatron a teasing look at the energon-stained wing.

He gave Megatron only a brief moment to appreciate the view. He twisted to face Megatron again, smirking. Then he lay down on the berth splaying his limbs in another faux-naturally seductive pose. He winced slightly, shifting to keep from lying on his injured wing, hissing softly.

His cooling fans whirred as Megatron moved to stand over him. Megatron raised a hand, curling and uncurling his claws. Starscream stared at them with rapt attention.

Megatron felt his spark crackle in his chest, heat spreading through his systems and pooling in his interface equipment. His spike thudded against its cover, eager and insistent.

He growled, willing himself to be patient. Starscream had not only returned to the Decepticon ranks, but brought with him the means to revive their dead home planet. Once they restored Cybertron, he would have millenia to do anything he liked.

For now, he needed to be patient. Not only because it would make their pleasure all the sweeter, but because he needed to be certain of Starscream's loyalties. He could guess easily enough what had driven Starscream back to his ranks – but those drives and desires would have to be carefully fed and nurtured.

And sometimes the way to do that was not to give in to them immediately.

"Oh," Megatron said, his tone conversational, "but I'm ever so interested in what you have to say, Starscream. What was it about the room?"

"The – the room?" Starscream stammered. "What do you –?"

Megatron reached down to run a claw over the edge of Starscream's uninjured wing. The Seeker shuddered violently, his optics unfocused.

It had only been a few months – the flicker of an optic to Cybertronians – but Starscream, it seemed, had been as affected by the time apart as Megatron himself had. Megatron grinned, keeping up the slow, hypnotic rhythm.

"You were surprised to find it as you'd left it," he murmured, leaning in close, the words a low, intimate whisper. His other hand moved to Starscream's damaged wing, promising either comfort or pain. "Why?"

Starscream shivered. Megatron guessed it wasn't just from the touch. The hand Megatron touched Starscream with was not his own.

He'd taken the arm from the long-dead body of one of the ancient Primes, grafting it onto his own body. Only the hand of a Prime could use the Forge he'd needed to craft his new sword, a blade fashioned of dark energon, a weapon of immeasurable power.

But forging the blade had cost him a part of himself, and here and now he could feel Starscream recoil at the hand of a Prime – an ancestor of his greatest enemy – touching him so intimately. Even if that hand now belonged to his leader.

But his hesitation also kept Megatron waiting, and he knew it. Clearing his vocalizer in an approximation of an apology, he wrapped spindly arms around Megatron's back. The tips of his claws skipped along the big mech's plating. The sensors there lit with far more pleasure than they should have, a stinging heat that made every part of Megatron's frame feel alive.

Starscream's wings twitched in the wordless equivalent of a gloating laugh. "Master," he purred, "surely we have better things to –"

"Out with it," Megatron growled, narrowing his optics to block out the entirely too tantalizing sight of the slender mech below him.

"It's only that – that I thought for certain you'd give these quarters to my _replacements,_" Starscream hissed, his wide mouth twisting.

Megatron snickered, curling the clawless fingertips over the wing he held and leaning close enough for his chest plate to brush against Starscream's. The heat he felt there burned, racing through his systems with such intensity that red light flickered across his optics.

He reset them, cycling air heavily through his intakes, his grip tightening hard over Starscream's wing. "To Dreadwing?"

Starscream's own claws clenched, digging into the seams between Megatron's plating. Megatron welcomed the pain. Dealing with Starscream had always been dangerous for one or the other of them. Pain was nothing more than the proof of it.

"To Dreadwing," Starscream confirmed. "Or worse, to that twisted malformation Airachnid." He spat the name as though choking on bitter energon.

"Airachnid?" Megatron threw back his head and roared with laughter. His stolen fingers tightened hard around Starscream's injured wing. Was _that_why Starscream had left?

"You mean the Airachnid you joined forces with to try and kill me?"

Starscream shrieked. The wing under Megatron's hand trembled, but the Seeker neither withdrew nor winced. That meant anger – pure and undiluted, the sort Megatron's teasing cruelty alone would never draw him out of.

_Interesting, _Megatron thought, stilling his hands.

"I mean the Airachnid you gave what rightfully belonged to me," Starscream snarled. "The Airachnid you invited into your confidence. The one who twisted your opinion of me with lies and misinformation. Who treated me like her personal slave. Who _you _allowed to do it, standing on the bridge and _mocking me _right along with her."

Starscream's optics narrowed to twin slits of flame. "For all I knew, Master, you'd not only given her this room, but had her on this very berth. Why shouldn't I be pleased to see this room untouched?"

Megatron's frame vibrated with laughter. Bring Airachnid here?

He had to admit the thought was amusing, now that Starscream had put it into his head. Airachnid's fascination with alien species had led her to modify her own body, creating mechanical facsimiles of her trophies' body parts and grafting them onto herself. She'd developed some impressive weapons, creating a sticky webbed substance she could fire from her hands to snare and blind her enemies. But the process of modification had warped her own frame until she resembled something between an Insecticon and an organic arthropod.

But she was also vain, and took care to preserve the essential beauty of her form. Her horned, pointed head was still shapely, her claws still elegant and dangerous. Her frame was pleasing enough to the optic, if one overlooked its oddities.

And while Megatron doubted she would have gone to berth with him eagerly, she could never have refused him. She'd deserted the Decepticons eons ago, striking out on her own, and only returned when someone had captured her. Desperate for any power she could grab, she'd played the returning prodigal. Hesitation to comply with Megatron's wishes – with _any_ of Megatron's wishes – would have meant admitting to disloyalty.

That disloyalty would have had ruinous consequences for her. In fact, Megatron mused, still chuckling, it already had.

"Airachnid betrayed me," Megatron said, his voice chillingly cold. "I sent Dreadwing and Breakdown to terminate her."

Megatron felt Starscream's claws freeze against his back. "You – you – what? She told me she'd gone rogue, but –"

Megatron twisted hard at the wing he held, the plating buckling as the Prime's thick fingers bent it. Starscream shrieked, shaking his head. Megatron grinned, the feral, cruel smile of a warlord at the peak of his power.

He lifted his claw, swiping it down before Starscream had time to twist out of the way. The razor-sharp metal tipping his fingers scored four new diagonal lines down Starscream's other wing. He wailed again at the sudden, compounded sting.

"Master!" he cried, his claws scrabbling frantically against Megatron's back. "_Why?_"

Megatron froze, still as dead metal. He waited a long moment, listening to Starscream's staticky sobs and frantic cycling of air.

Once his partner calmed, he spoke. "I never touched her, Starscream."

Before Starscream could react, Megatron leaned his head down to the wing he'd damaged. He pressed his scarred faceplates to the wounds, rubbing against them.

The scent of Starscream's energon had always been unique, and smelling it now, Megatron's processor reeled. He sighed against the damaged plating, opened his mouth, and extended his tongue to lap at the fluid.

It had been long years since Starscream had used the high-quality fuel Vos's Seekers were famous for. Eons of war and famine had required him to make do with the same energon as everyone else. But somehow the faint tang of that long-lost, carefully refined fuel lingered, filling Megatron's mind with memories of Starscream's home – and of his own.

Perhaps Megatron's processor played tricks on him, tempting him with hints of what might have been. But if so, his mind had played those tricks for eons now – and had only played them here, with this mech, the greatest of Vos's scientists and the mightiest of its warriors.

Starscream gasped, responding to Megatron's ministrations in spite of himself, pressing his wing against Megatron's soothing tongue. Laughing, Megatron lifted his head, rumbling in satisfaction when Starscream whimpered at the loss.

He leaned down again to reward Starscream's enthusiasm with a brutal kiss, his fangs worrying Starscream's mouth.

Starscream's hands tightened around him, tensing by instinct alone. He moaned against Megatron's lip plates, opening his mouth wide as he squirmed beneath the larger mech.

Megatron's spark pulsed heavy and overfull in his chest, desire crackling like lightning through his systems. His spike cover slid aside of its own accord, no longer beholden to his will. He murmured with relief as it sprang free.

Starscream stared greedily at the newly-uncovered prize, sliding a hand down Megatron's back and over his hip, reaching for the thick spike. "Really, Megatron, I'm not sure why you replaced me in the first place."

Megatron growled deep within his frame, the desire racing through his systems feeding a hot crackle of anger. His free hand seized Starscream's wrist, holding the thin claw still before it could begin to move on him. He'd have that pleasure soon enough. Right now, he could not allow it to weaken his resolve.

His scarred mouthplates curled back in a snarl. "I would never have had to appoint someone else second-in-command if my first officer at the time hadn't _deserted_."

"What?" Starscream screeched, hastily letting go of Megatron's spike. "Then that mission, months ago – when you sent Airachnid to retrieve a weapon and demoted me to her –" he hissed again and mimicked his enemy – "'personal guide' –"

The Prime's stolen fingers wrenched hard at the wing under Megatron's hand. Starscream stilled immediately, long accustomed to his leader's discipline.

"Demoted you, Starscream? When she returned from that mission, she had won nothing for the Decepticons. She returned without the weapon I sent her to retrieve – and, far more importantly, _without you._"

"Then this – isn't just about some – new policy of unity?"

"No, Starscream."

Starscream smirked. "Then what will you do with her now?"

"Now? Airachnid lives?"

"Of course," Starscream chuckled, as coldly as Megatron had. "You knew your little pets didn't manage to kill her, Megatron."

"I did," Megatron rasped. "She sent an entire Insecticon swarm to attack me." He wrenched at Starscream's wing again, twisting and tearing, making the Seeker yelp. "The same day _someone else's_ armada of clones snuck onto my ship and tried to kill me."

Starscream tittered nervously, twisting in Megatron's grasp in a futile attempt to ease the burn in his wing. "Oh, right. That."

Megatron allowed himself to savor the Seeker's fear for a moment and went on. "Her Insecticon slaves beset me on all sides. Then, suddenly, they fell to their knees as one before me. They swore their undying loyalty, begging forgiveness for their treachery."

"They managed to break her control, then." Starscream's optics brightened at the thought. Then his optic ridges furrowed. "But how?"

"That I do not know," Megatron admitted. "I assumed our enemies had managed that. By doing what Dreadwing and Breakdown could not: destroying her once and for all."

"If only they had," Starscream spat. "She's in stasis in an Insecticon pod. The pod lies hidden away in a storage closet in the Autobot base. Which means she's immobile, but very much alive. I can only assume keeping her that way our enemies' idea of –" his mouthplates twisted into a sour little scowl ''– mercy."

Megatron chuckled. "Well then. She may return to our ranks eventually. If she survives."

"Survives?" Starscream stared at Megatron, confused. "Survives what?"

"I have spent years trying to determine the location of the Autobot base, Starscream. Now, thanks to you, I finally know exactly where our enemies hide."

Starscream preened. "Of course, Master. Anything for the cause."

Megatron growled, unimpressed.

Starscream giggled nervously. "Er – that is – I'm not sure I understand. What are you trying to say?"

"I plan to besiege it, Starscream. You know that. Once it has fallen, I will restore Airachnid to her place here. Her _proper _place."

"But you said –"

"Think, Starscream. If you remain capable of it." Megatron grinned, his fangs a ring of sharpened blades. "The Autobot base will be a smoldering crater when our forces are finished with it. What precisely are the odds that we'll find one little stasis pod whole and untouched amid the wreckage?"

Starscream's optics widened. "You mean –?"

"Come now, Starscream," Megatron purred. "You've offered me the chance I need not only to restore Cybertron but to conquer this pathetic little planet."

The warlord smiled, licking his lips. "Surely you knew I'd reward you for it."

Starscream's engines sputtered. His mouthplates moved, struggling to form words and forming only static. Then, giving up on speech, he laughed instead, a high trill of cruel expectation and relief.

"Master," he purred, his spindly legs wrapping around Megatron's broad frame.

He straightened, letting go of Starscream's wings, the movement of his massive back making Starscream's hand slide off of him. He regarded the Seeker a moment – the bright optics, the half-confused curl of the mouth. The wings, both marked by his hands now. The ornate plate over his pelvis, pointed in an elaborate design, hiding the Seeker's interface equipment behind it

He grinned, grabbing at the plate with one claw and beginning to pull.

Starscream gasped, knowing full well what Megatron intended. He hastily shifted the plate aside before Megatron could tear it off.

"All right, then," Megatron rasped, chuckling. The shifting of Starscream's plating could easily trap the narrow tips of his claws and hold them fast.

But Megatron had planned for that already. He hastily let go of the metal he held before it caught his fingers and dove for his real prize: the cover of Starscream's valve, lubricant leaking from the seams.

Starscream cried out in alarm, hastily sliding his cover aside. As it withdrew, Megatron seized his moment. His claw swept down again, grabbing at the half-open cover and ripping it free. It came loose in his hand, dented from his powerful grip. He tossed it away, rumbling in satisfaction at the clang of it hitting the floor.

Starscream growled. "Do you _always _have to do that?"

Megatron ignored him, bending down and bringing his lip plates to the rim of Starscream's valve.

The twin scents of lubricant and energon filled his olfactory receptors and he paused, his already-pressurized spike stiffening all the more as the memories came again, vivid impressions from a time long ago.

He remembered Starscream, young and eager, swearing fealty even as he pressed his hungry valve to Megatron's lips. He remembered the Seekers, soaring into the skies at his call, raining death down on his enemies. And he remembered the towers of Vos as they once had been in the days of the old city's glory, twisting spires rising to pierce the sky.

Half-dazed from the images filling his mind, he rubbed his scarred mouthplates against the valve's rim, smearing his lips with the combined fluids. Then he opened his mouth and began to lick, soothing away the pain of the wounds he'd made.

He bucked his hips, his neglected spike growing all the more insistent, and laved at Starscream's sore valve-rim hungrily. He felt a thin hand wrap around his helmet, its grip painfully tight, and laughed. He did not usually permit anyone to grab him like that – especially not an arrogant mech prone to trying to seize the power that belonged to him.

But feeling Starscream grind hard against his face, his valve's rim scraping against the scarred plating, he found he couldn't spare much anger for it. Whether Starscream's demanding behavior crossed the line into insolence or not, it was exactly what Megatron wanted. Exactly what he had waited for, for a brief span of months that weighed on him like centuries.

Grinning, he traced his fangs over the rim of Starscream's valve, just slowly enough to sting. Starscream froze, knowing from long experience that any stray movement could result in the blade-sharp fangs piercing his most sensitive parts. He wailed, whimpering with need. He'd never liked to be still.

"Master –" he whined, his voice shot through with static. More lubricant seeped from his valve, smearing Megatron's mouthplates and teeth.

Megatron trembled, his spark pulsing hard in response to the word. Starscream had said it before, of course, wanting to win his way back to the fold through flattery – but how long had it been since he'd said it here, like this, half-undone?

He allowed himself only a moment more, pressing his fangs to the valve's rim, careful not to pierce the already damaged metal.

Then it was time for Starscream's reward. He gave a rumbling growl, as much for the vibration as to express his pleasure, and slid his tongue into Starscream's valve.

Free to move at last, Starscream tilted his hips crazily, trying to drive it deeper inside. Starscream had always liked to be filled, and after so long he must be desperate for even the slightest penetration. His frame vibrating with laughter, he lapped at the inside of Starscream's valve a moment longer before withdrawing.

Starscream cursed him, spitting invective. Then, remembering his promise to serve his lord, he let his tirade fade into another little mewl of need. Still chuckling, Megatron wrapped his hands around Starscream's hips, his grip tight enough to dent the delicate plating if Starscream resisted.

The thin frame stilled again. Megatron rumbled in pleased appreciation, moving to lick at a sensitive cluster of sensor nodes at the rim of Starscream's valve.

"Megatron –" Starscream gasped, urgent static lacing his voice. Growling in eager impatience, Megatron redoubled his efforts, Starscream's scent filling his olfactory sensors, the twin tastes of his lubricant and energon still filling his mouth.

Starscream's body arched hard one last time and froze, the sensor cluster pressed against Megatron's lips. Then he shuddered and cried out, Megatron's hands locked hard around his hips.

Megatron lifted his head, licking his lips. He gritted his fangs against the intensity of his own frame's response to Starscream's overload. It was a minor one, he knew – as much as Starscream must have missed pleasure at his hands, his real pleasure would come later. If either of them could hold out long enough.

Starscream's optics flickered as his systems reset. He sat up, flicking his wings and wincing slightly as they moved. But the grimace of pain became a grin, a broad smirk spreading over Starscream's faceplates.

"Well, my lord," the Seeker murmured, his voice rich with satiation and amusement, "are you going to spike me now? Or was all of that simply – a welcome home present?"

Megatron growled a warning. "Did you really think that I would labor for no benefit but yours?" He stepped back, giving Starscream a good view of his painfully pressurized spike.

Starscream stared at it a long moment, his optics bright with renewed hunger. Then he frowned. "Well, I – since you did nothing for yourself, I thought you –"

"Consider our earlier conversation, Starscream."

"Our – conversation?"

"About Airachnid."

"Airachnid?" Starscream squeaked. "What – what does she have to do with – any of this?"

"Only this," Megatron rumbled, his optics blazing the red of molten metal. "_Never guess at my intentions._"

He drew back, leaving Starscream sputtering.

"I fully intend to claim what is mine. You should know me well enough to be certain of that. But not like this. Not face to face. Not looking into your optics as if you deserve such regard."

"Master –" Starscream whined, "I'm sorry for –"

"Spare me your apologies," Megatron snarled. "Despite all you've promised, Starscream – and all you've done – you still betrayed me. Get up."

Starscream trembled as he slid off the berth. He struggled to keep still, but Megatron saw the slender, elegant frame shaking as he stood in front of Megatron, waiting. The reminder, it seemed, had silenced him at last.

Megatron spared one last, hungry glance for Starscream's valve, obscenely open, smeared with an enticing mix of silvery lubricant and bright blue energon.

"Turn around," Megatron ordered, "and bend over."

Starscream sighed, hastening to obey. Megatron could have punished him severely, and instead his actions only promised further pleasure.

Megatron reached down to stroke Starscream's aft with his borrowed hand. Starscream shrank away again, muttering in disgust. Undaunted, Megatron caressed the warm metal under his hands, coaxing. Starscream cycled a heavy pant and leaned into his touch.

Snickering, Megatron drew back his hand and struck Starscream's aft hard.

"Master!" Starscream cried. "No! Not with that abomination –"

Megatron chuckled, striking Starscream again. Starscream cursed again, and Megatron redoubled his efforts, the foreign hand crashing into Starscream's shapely aft again and again.

But for all his howls of protest, Starscream's valve only leaked all the more lubricant. Megatron slowed his rhythm and Starscream keened, furious at the loss, arching into Megatron's hand for more.

Snickering, Megatron obliged him, slapping hard at the sensitized plating Starscream's movements presented to him, his spike leaking fluid as Starscream's cries of pain became staticky, needy moans.

But he hadn't ordered Starscream over the berth simply to thrash him with someone else's appendage. He reached down with his other hand – his real hand, the one he'd been built with – and ran the tips of his claws over the plating of Starscream's aft.

The Seeker gasped again, the plating under Megatron's clawtips already sensitized from the blows. And this was his master's touch, the touch he remembered, the touch of claws that could caress him gently or slice his burning aft to ribbons. He shuddered, somewhere between fear and pleasure, waiting for whatever his master meant to offer him, whether tender or cruel.

Megatron waited as long as he could stand. Then, slowly, he raked his claw over Starscream's aft, digging deep, scoring lines across the plating. Energon welled from the cuts, and the scent set Megatron's spark whirling. He leaned down, pressing his scarred face to the wounds, rubbing his mouthplates over them as he had against Starscream's valve and wing, then opening his mouth to lick

"Megatron – please – stop toying with me –" Starscream panted, as though giving voice to Megatron's own thoughts.

Megatron laughed and stepped back, taking his long-neglected spike into his hands, feeling it twitch at his own touch. He rubbed its tip against the wounds, coating it with Starscream's energon just as he had his lip plates.

Starscream muttered impatiently. With another chuckle, Megatron moved again, pressing the tip of his spike against the entrance to Starscream's valve. "Is this what you want?" he taunted, his own voice crackling with static.

Starscream squirmed. Every part of Megatron was massive, especially compared to Starscream. Megatron had been a gladiator in the deathmatch arena of Kaon, built to overwhelm opponents in close hand-to-hand combat. Starscream was small and light, designed to fight in the air. With the maneuverability and speed his small frame granted him, his opponents should never get close enough to overpower him.

But their radically different builds made them disproportionate in every way. When they'd first tried interfacing like this, Megatron's thick spike had left Starscream's valve dented and torn. It still did, when Megatron didn't feel like being careful with him. Sometimes Megatron intended it as a punishment. Sometimes he did it to remind Starscream of his place. Sometimes Starscream himself begged for it, too eager to be mindful of his safety. Sometimes Megatron himself was the eager one, too driven by his own lust to be careful with his property.

Megatron smirked, feeling Starscream shiver against him, the slight movement smearing energon and lubricant on his waiting spike. It had been a long time since his spike had stretched Starscream open. A long time since Starscream's valve had shifted carefully to admit him, the plating moving to accommodate his size.

"Yes," Starscream murmured, apparently undaunted by the risks.

Megatron needed no further encouragement. His hands gripped tight at Starscream's hips as he entered Starscream with one mighty thrust, battering his way through the entrance to the Seeker's valve.

Starscream keened as the thick spike invaded him. Through the warm heat around him, Megatron could feel the inner walls of the valve struggle to iris open. He'd probably dented a few of them going in. His spike twitched inside the tight valve to think of it. He'd left his mark not only on Starscream's wings, but also here, marking the very inside of the Seeker's body as his own.

He paused, enthralled enough by the feeling of the valve gripping him that he could afford to be solicitous. His mismatched hands grabbed Starscream's hips, but he did not move them yet, waiting for Starscream to adjust

Starscream's wings clicked frantically as his valve struggled to get used to the massive spike inside him. Megatron felt it shift and slid his spike deeper, reminding the Seeker that he'd already had his little reward. This would happen on Megatron's terms now.

"Mine," he growled, pulling out and ramming in again, pitiless. "Once and for all."

The Seeker gasped, cycling air in rough, shallow pants. His clawed hands gripped tight at the berth. He mewled, a choking sound. Then he moaned, shuddering, and drove himself gingerly back on the massive spike impaling him.

Megatron hissed, feeling the impossibly small body open wide around him, lubricant and energon pooling around the base of his spike. He drew back and drove in deep, wanting to make every stinging sensor in Starscream's tight little valve flare to life in response to his possession.

"Yours," Starscream howled, slamming himself back against Megatron and wailing in agonized pleasure.

Megatron's hands dug hard into the Seeker's hips, the Prime's stolen hand denting the sensitive plating under it, the pointed claw piercing the metal, energon welling up around the tips.

"Always," Megatron rumbled, driving in again.

"Always – Megatron – please –" Starscream howled as Megatron slammed into him again. "I can't –"

Static flickered in front of Megatron's optics. He gritted his teeth, struggling to resist the sensations threatening to overwhelm him. Was that a promise, or was Starscream only saying what he thought his lord wanted to hear? Megatron had probed Starscream's very mind just days ago, and found an endless well of ambition and lies.

But Starscream had returned to him. And seemed honestly pleased to hear Megatron curse his rivals.

"Very well," Megatron murmured, pulling out of Starscream's valve as slowly as he could stand, the friction setting sensors alight that Megatron had forgotten existed. His spark pulsed in his chest, heavy and overfull, and electrical charge flickered over the surface of his spike.

"Now," he roared, slamming into Starscream with all the force and fury of the gladiator he'd once been. Starscream threw back his head and howled, finally letting go, his impossibly tight valve locking around Megatron's spike, hard enough to hurt.

Megatron pushed Starscream's hips back against him all the harder, his own cry becoming a bellow as the spasming of Starscream's valve pushed him over the edge as well, fluid gushing forth from his spike to baptize Starscream's insides.

_Always, _he thought again, his vision fading to white as overload crashed through his systems. _Whatever you intend, Starscream, I will hold you to that promise._


End file.
